


Six Illiterate Whores

by Lokuricas



Category: Being Human
Genre: Hal's back story bro, Hal's mothers.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:27:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokuricas/pseuds/Lokuricas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>six short stories about how each of Hal's mothers died and one story about how Hal died.</p>
<p>None really connect, but connect all the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Illiterate Whores

**Mother One – Constance, (KAHN-stans)**

**Meaning: Steadfast stead•fast/ˈstedˌfast/**

_Adjective: Resolutely or dutifully firm and unwavering: "steadfast loyalty"_

 

**Constance was the youngest of my mothers. Merely a baby herself when I was born, at the age of 19. I recall often hoping she was my blood mother, the one who bore me and gave birth to me, but I knew there was no chance of that, given she had come seven and a half months before I was born. I loved Constance dearly. She was the one who taught me how to read and write (only the basics as her father had thought education was a waste on women. She had taught me what her mother had taught her.) And speak in proper English. She was from a well off family, but one day she had come home and found them all dead and her house robbed of all their possessions and that’s how she ended up here. She was the first to die. I remember it all so clearly…**

 

I walked the length of my home. I didn’t like it here. But, what could I do? I’m only 16 and it’s hard to leave a whore house. Not that I’d try to anyway. Constance liked me to stay here because I often got attacked by people (Some my age, others older.) It was because I was a “bastard child” or “a born sinner” and my mothers were whores, but today, the house felt too constricting, too small. The house master wouldn’t mind if I left. If it hadn’t been for Constance, he would have left me outside after I was born and left me for death, but She wouldn’t have it, she told him in no uncertain terms if any harm came to me, he’d be dead before dawn and he knew she meant it. Constance told me it was the only time he’d ever given in to a whore.

 

I soundlessly crept over to the door. I didn’t want Constance to know I was leaving. She’d would be insistent I stay and she’d pull her face until I let her have her way, but just as I began to open the door, Constance was by my side, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. Unlike the others in this house Constance was beautiful and her looks hadn’t withered with age and depression. She had long, thick blonde hair, green eyes and flawless skin. If she wasn’t here, she’d be married to a wealthy husband with children of her own, which secretly, I always thought she deserved.

 

“Hal, what are you doing?” She asked quietly.

“I was hoping to go for a walk.” I told her, trying to keep any annoyance out of my voice.

“Is that so? Have I not told you to stay in the house?” She asked, trying to keep her voice quiet, as not to wake the house master.

“It is too small. I just want to breathe.” I told her sounding firm. “Please Constance?” She looked me in the eye from a few moments trying to pout at me but when she saw it wasn’t going to work, she sighed sadly.

“Oh Hal…” She whispered. “I just want to be safe and to be okay.” She pinched the top of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “What kind of mother would I be-“

“You are not my mother.” I cut her off bluntly, getting extremely annoyed. I don’t, nor will I ever, have a mother. I glared at her as she looked up at me, her bright eyes filling with tears.

“Fine. Leave. “She said, equally as blunt, but with her voice breaking slightly toward the end and as she blinked a few tears fell down her cheeks. She turned away from me and walked to the room from which she came.

 

I glared after her and made sure to slam the door behind me. I don’t normally get so mad at her, but I’m so sick of being treated as if I cannot look after myself. I am old enough and I am wiser than most! I have seen things not many would not dare imagine!

I took a deep breath as I walked down the stinking streets I called home. Heads poked out of their home’s to stare at me; some put their heads together to converse about my illegitimate existence. I tried to ignore it but sometimes it angers me, really I am no different to them. I have blood running through my veins and I have emotions and memories. I am just like them, but my heritage segregates me. Isolates me.

I was paying so much attention on not paying attention to them; I didn’t notice one of them picking up a stone to throw at me. I only saw it as it hit my across the face. My hand came to my cheek and I could feel warm blood where the stone must have cut me. Then they were all on my before I even had the chance to run. There wasn’t a part of me that I felt wasn’t being attacked. People were kicking, scratching, punching, pulling and stamping. I couldn’t breathe; I could feel blood creeping up my throat as I coughed.

_“Satin’s Child!”_

_“CHILD OF WHORES!”_

_“Sinner!”_

_“Bastard child!”_

 

They screeched insults all the while. I wanted to scream, shout, cry, fight back, do anything, but I couldn’t. Bile began to rise in my throat and I could feel myself slipping in and out of consciousness. My vision blurred and I heard Constance calling my name.

 

“Hal! Hal!” The pain must be making me delirious. Constance would never leave the house unless she had to. It was too dangerous. Then through the blackness and fog that surrounded my mind, something clicked. Would never leave the house unless she had to… Constance must have seen me being attacked and run out. But she’d get seriously hurt. All my senses were screaming at me to shout and scream at her to go back, but every time I opened my mouth I could only cough and splutter. They all stopped one by one as Constance pushed her way through the crowd of people to me. She fell to her knee’s beside me and hugged me close, but from the moment her arms wrapped around me to cradle me, she was pulled away and for a few horrible, vile, miserable seconds, I heard her screams of pain and anguish. My last thought before my world turned black, was: Constance…

 

I woke up with a pound head and aching limbs. I hadn’t realized it when I’d woken up, but I was screaming loudly. The room around me was black and one of my mother’s was rising from a chair in the corner. She began to walk, in an only slightly faster pace than usual.

“Henry! Be quiet!” She snapped at me as she sat herself heavily at my feet. “You’ll wake the house master!” for a second my mind seemed to blank and blur, I felt myself gag and bile rose in my throat, a wave a nausea washed over me as I threw up down my bare, bruised chest. One word kept running through my mind, one question begging to be asked. I mustered up all the strength I could, and barely managed to whisper:

“Constance?” My voice was croaky and worn and even to me it was old beyond its years. The mother who was with me shook her head, looking at me with dull eyes, so different to Constance’s.

“Dead.”


End file.
